


Missing Pieces

by TheEmeraldBadger



Series: Missing Pieces [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Assault (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 03:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18274877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEmeraldBadger/pseuds/TheEmeraldBadger
Summary: Roman was one of the few humans in the world to be blessed with multiple soulmates. He had yet to meet his final soulmate, but that was fine (no it wasn't). He could wait (no he couldn't).





	Missing Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> I've finally gotten around to posting this on here. It's on tumblr, but I wanted to put it here too.  
> This is the first fic I've written for the Sanders Sides fandom, so I hope I got the characters right.

For as long as human life had been documented, soulmates have been drawn to each other, matched together in flawless combinations to make sure that the generations to come would prosper. Every human being was born with the outline of a shape over their heart, one section filled in with bright colour. The other section would fill itself in grayscale when the two souls meant for each other met for the first time, then again with colour when the mind truly accepted the other as a part of the person’s life. If that was not enough, Fate granted the souls meant for each other a way to communicate before they met in person. If a person drew upon their own skin, then the ink would show up on their soulmate’s too. Of course, there was a catch, as written language was deemed too convenient by Fate, if a person attempted to contact their soulmate with written words it would appear as illegible gibberish upon the other’s skin.  Polyamorous relationships while uncommon, weren’t unheard of, ink appearing on all of the soulmates and shape on their chest split into more sections, rather than just two.

Roman Adwin was one of the lucky few blessed with multiple soulmates to share his love with. The castle outlined on his chest was split into four sections, the main building a vibrant scarlet with towers filled in two different shades of blue. The door remained colourless, but Roman had faith that he’d find the missing one eventually. Until then, he resolved to shower the two that he had already met in as much love and affection as he could. They were each so special to him. In high-school Roman met Patton Asher, the kindest man Roman had ever met, with his radiant smile and bright hazel eyes. At 18 he met Logan Cato, who’s mind was the only thing sharper than his cheekbones, despite his lack of knowledge when it came to anything pop-culture. If he was being honest, Roman didn’t know what he’d do without either of them. Even so, there was a hole in his heart, begging to be filled.

At 20 the three of them moved in together, and a year later Roman auditioned at the local theatre. Upon getting home after the audition, Patton pointed out that door of the castle on Roman’s chest had filled with a dark, almost-black grey. Honestly, as much as Roman would deny it later, he freaked out. He’d _actually_ met the missing piece. Although he’d met so many people that day, he was confident that he’d know his soulmate upon seeing them again. (When he’d voiced this particular thought aloud, Logan had brought up his track record, which Roman had to admit wasn’t the best. He and Patton had been friends for over a year before Patton had figured it out, while Logan had known within minutes of meeting the two of them. Roman still doesn’t know how he’d done it.) His soulmate could’ve been so many different people that Roman met that day, Logan pointed out. Maybe it was the asshole with a tattoo on their face that made it look like they had scales (god Roman hoped it wasn’t them), the tall and broody man with dark clothes and darker eyeshadow, the casting director with the Steven Universe shirt, the man in sunglasses with a starbucks cup always in one hand, or any of the other actors who he’d met while auditioning.

Somehow, despite it being the first time he’d ever been involved with that particular theatre, he was cast as the lead. The brooding man with the dark eyeshadow turned out to be the costume designer, and after their first meeting, Roman _really_ didn’t like him. They had butted heads when the other man made an off-handed comment about a Disney movie Roman and a castmate had been discussing while being fitted for costumes. At first, Roman had been excited. A new person to talk Disney with! But then the man had started criticizing the message _Aladdin_ portrayed, and that, Roman could _not_ stand for. He didn’t do anything too dramatic, he couldn’t risk losing this part, he just made a slightly snappish comment that could’ve _technically_ been taken as an insult, but it was the other man’s own fault for taking it the wrong way.

Their rivalry finally cooled when Roman rescued Devyn, the jerk with the face tattoo from a group of bullies that had beaten up the makeup artist and left them battered in an alley. Devyn had revealed to him that the costume designer was their brother, and rattled off his phone number in a hoarse voice. The man had shown up minutes after hanging up on Roman, scooping his sibling up like they weighed nothing, which Roman knew for a fact that they _didn’t._ Devyn may have had a lanky body-type, but they were _tall_ , almost as tall as their brother, who was easily 6’4 (another thing Roman resented about him, as the actor himself was merely 5’7, shorter than both of his soulmates).

The next rehearsal the man himself sought Roman out, and thanked him empathetically. He made a comment about not having introduced himself, and once Roman had shaken off the shock of finally learning the man’s name, he’d snorted. He wouldn’t have taken the man for a Virgil. Brutus maybe. Maximus at a stretch. But not Virgil. Virgil shrank into himself at Roman’s reaction, but Roman was quick to reassure the other man that his reaction was a positive one. Virgil’s shocked expression was truly heartwarming, and after that day the two slowly became close friends.

About a month after the show finished Roman received a text from Remy, Devyn’s soulmate, inviting him to a Christmas get-together. Family, soulmates and close friends were all welcome, and that’s how Roman found himself in front of a truly massive house, with a soulmate at each of his sides. The building wasn’t _quite_ mansion size, but it was definitely getting there. It had a Victorian style to it, but Roman had learned long ago not to judge a book by its cover. After all, he hadn’t had the best first impression of Virgil, but under that dark eyeshadow and darker clothes was a man that Roman had come to consider a valued companion. So what if he never wore short-sleeves, and always had gloves covering his hands? People had the right to keep their soul-ink private.

Roman took a deep breath, linked hands with Patton and Logan, and ventured inside.

The first thing that caught Roman’s attention was a bowl the size of his head on a table in the middle of the foyer, about three-quarters full of circular white mints, the type that you’d find in restaurants. A small group of people lounged on the couches around it, a young man with curly hair in the middle of telling a story, two women so close to each other that they were practically in the same space, and two men with such similar features that they had to have been twins.

One of the women spotted them, extracting herself from the other woman and bounding up to them, curly blonde hair bouncing.

“You must be Roman!” Her voice was heavily accented, if Roman had to guess he’d say Australian, but he wasn’t one hundred percent sure. She turned to Logan and Patton, cheerful expression never wavering.  “And that would make you…” Pausing, she looked Logan up and down. “Tie, cheekbones… Logan, right?”

“You are correct,” Logan said, looking vaguely uncomfortable. Before he could say anything else the woman had bounced back into action.

“If that’s Roman, and that’s Logan, then you must be Patton! I gotta say, I _love_ your sweater.”

Patton blushed happily at the compliment, and while the woman had been speaking the twins had gotten up and approached the quartet standing in the doorway.

“Don’t tell us-”

“That you’re just-”

“Going to stand-”

“In the door-”

“All night long?”

They finished the sentence together, tilting their heads identically. Both of them were taller than Roman, Logan, _and_ Patton. Was all of Virgil’s family insanely tall?

The curly-haired woman clapped her hands together, hazel eyes twinkling. “I think introductions are in order, don’t you? I’m Stephanie, but you can call me Steph! These two,” she gestured to the twins, quite a feat given that there was one on each side of her, “Are Zach and Finn.” She leaned in close, voice a stage whisper. “Don’t let them fool you, if you ever can’t tell them apart Finn has his ears pierced, and Zach let his heal over.”

Zach scoffed, taking a step backward and turning away in faux offense. “I’ll just get them redone then, shall I?”

“If you’re not too chicken,” Finn ribbed, “Bawk, bawk, bawk.”

Zach laughed, elbowing his twin in the stomach. “We’ve got the same genes dumbass, if I’m a chicken then you are too.”

“If you’re quite done,” the woman draped across the couch drawled, “Steph was introducing us.” She had an Australian accent too, but it was lighter.

“You’re the best sweet-cheeks,” Stephanie giggled. “This lovely creature is Cynthia, _my_ soulmate.” Cynthia gave a two-fingered salute that seemed oddly familiar. “Last but not least, we have Anton.” The curly-haired man who had been telling the story earlier waved, but didn’t move from where he sat.

“Did Virgil invite you?” Steph cocked her head to one side, eyes questioning.

“Remy did actually,” Roman said, shifting on his feet, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

Cynthia made a thoughtful noise. “Remy, huh? He’s not here yet, he always shows up fashionably late.”

“Last I saw Virgil he was in the kitchen,” Anton offered, dropping a mint in his mouth. A small white dog trotted into the room through the doorway left open when the twins left, and Patton made a squeaky noise, clapping his hands together excitedly.

“Can I?” His hands twitched, and his eyes were the biggest Roman had ever seen them.

Steph laughed, scooping the dog off of the floor and placing it in Patton’s arms. “Her name is Lola.”

The little dog yipped and licked at Patton’s chin. Roman smothered a laugh, and beside him, Logan made a quiet amused noise.

“She likes you.”

“You’re Virge’s friend?” Cynthia asked, fingers hanging over the rim of the mint-bowl and crunching a sweet between her teeth. Roman nodded. In the corner of his eye he could see Logan doing the same thing, albeit much more subdued. Patton had a faceful of dog, so couldn’t really nod. She grinned, all teeth behind matte red-painted lips. “Why don’t we show you around? Introduce you to everyone?”

“We’d love that!” Patton squeaked over the canine yapping happily in his arms.

“Great!” Steph clapped her hands together, exuding an air of finality.

“You okay with this Logan?” Patton asked, kneeling to let Lola back to the ground.

Roma turned to look at the other man, who appeared vaguely uncomfortable.

“I would not be unopposed, it tends to be advantageous to have at least a meager understanding of the people one is spending time with, even when the time spent is limited,” Logan said briskly, in a way that those who didn’t know him would think was less than caring. Roman knew better, however, and rested his hand on his soulmate’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he murmured, painfully aware of the other three in the room.

“It will be fine Roman,” Logan said back at the same volume. “I am not an invalid.”

“If you’re sure.” Clearing his throat, Roman returned his attention to the others. “Whenever you’re ready then, great tour guide.”

Steph grinned, pink lips curling back into a mischievous expression that probably shouldn’t have looked no natural on her face. “Anton won’t be coming with us, because he’s a lazy b-”

The man in question cut her off with a loud cough, and Cynthia chuckled quietly beside him. Steph laughed along with her and resumed speaking, amending her previous statement with a cheeky smile. “Cynthia, darling, as much as I love you, you don’t have the best social skills.”

Said woman shrugged. “I know practically no-one here. I’ll just sit right here, and eat all the mints.”

Steph snickered. “You do that, honey.”

Roman offered her his arm. “Milady?”

Steph grinned and linked her arm through his, then crooked her other elbow. Patton giggled and joined arms with her, taking Logan’s hand in his own free one. Logan’s lips quirked into a small smile, and Roman fought back the urge to kiss it.

It was a somewhat awkward affair getting through the doorway, but once they’d passed it was smooth sailing. Logan had been sucked into conversation less than a minute after entering the room by a bunch of brainiacs, a young woman with curly blonde hair and stormy grey eyes, a man with grey hair in a black turtleneck and a girl in her late teens with purple glasses and dangly earrings.

Steph chattered pretty much non-stop, pointing out people apparently at random and spouting facts about them. (Finley’s over there with their soulmate, poor girl, who names their kid Ethel… that’s Renee, she’s a pretty great artist… Davy likes to think that he taught V all he knows, but everyone knows that it was Jackie who did really…) At one point she yelled something across the room in rapid-fire Spanish, and even though Roman knew the language he struggled to catch what she actually said. Something about love? He wasn’t sure, but on the other side of the room a tall teen with curly brown hair and bright blue eyes flushed crimson across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Steph had a satisfied smirk on her face for a while after that interaction.

Children of all ages ran around the room, playing what looked to be an extremely tense game of tag. Patton spotted another dog and ran off to pet it, quickly disappearing into the throng of people, so it was just Steph and Roman himself left in their impromptu tour group.  

“Steph… Roman.”

Roman jumped. When had Virgil’s sibling appeared? Steph spun around and punched them in the shoulder, yelping squeakily. “Don’t do that!”

The golden pronoun necklace hanging from around the other person’s throat glinted in the light, proudly proclaiming _She/Her_ , engraved in cursive. Devyn chuckled, brushing off the other woman’s hit as if it had no effect on her at all and straightening her hat. “Terrible to see you, cousin. Mind if I take him off your hands?”

“You okay with that Roman?” Steph blinked up at him. Roman was torn. On one hand, he didn’t know Steph very well, and he and Devyn had gotten along pretty well after the whole saving her from the group who’d been beating her up thing. On the other hand, Devyn was much taller than him, and Roman’s height was one of the things he was insecure about.

“Sure.”

With that Steph disappeared back into the crowd of people milling about the room (it was a big room), leaving Roman alone with Devyn. The woman in question put a hand on Roman’s shoulder and began to steer him through the masses.

“Is this your first time coming here?” Devyn asked, expression openly curious, which Roman knew was very fake. Devyn was never open. She’d probably make a great actor if that was what she was interested in.

“Yeah,” Roman replied, taking a moment to look around the room. “Who owns this place?”

“Virgil,” Devyn replied. At Roman’s disbelieving look she chuckled, yellow-glove-clad hand lifting up to partially cover her mouth. “This was our grandparents’ house. It was supposed to go to their kids, but none of them wanted it. It was too much work for them, apparently.” She snorted bitterly. “So it went to me and Virgil, but neither of us lived in the country. We moved here… maybe five years ago? I met Remy and moved in with them a couple years later, leaving V this place, and well… the rest is history.”

They’d come to a stop outside yet another door, and Devyn patted him on the shoulder.

“This is where I disappear.”

She turned and began to walk away. Roman stopped her.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Devyn laughed. “You don’t. Now, I may be a pathological liar, but believe me when I tell you this. My little brother cares about you. If you hurt him, you won’t like the consequences.” Her voice was deadly serious, heterochromatic eyes staring into Roman’s own humourlessly. In a blink, the moment was gone, and her expression cleared up. “Think about it.”

She vanished into the throng of people, the words “oblivious idiot” tossed into the air as she swayed away, and Roman was left by himself. Again. He took a deep breath and ventured forward into the kitchen. Inside were a few different people, but no Virgil. Roman asked, to be met with a chuckle from one of the women.

“He’s outside,” she said, spoken words accompanied by a point towards yet another door.

Roman waved goodbye to the occupants of the kitchen (it was a pretty kitchen too, with teal tiles and charcoal bench-tops) and dared onward. On the other side of the door was a veranda, with another large bowl of mints on a table under the window. Past the veranda was a massive yard, probably about half the size of a football field, if not slightly smaller. About a quarter of the way down the yard stood a teen, about sixteen or seventeen if Roman had to guess, a cap on his head and small red ball in one hand. Further down again, in front of a wicket another teen bounced on the balls of her feet, cricket bat in her hands and explosion of electric-blue curls held back from her face by a bandana in an eye-wateringly bright shade of fuschia. Across the grass about five other teens and a bunch of younger kids were spread out, all in various shades of enthusiasm.

“Tarrin, just throw the bloody ball!” The girl at the wicket hollered, tapping the bat against the ground.

“Hold your horses, Allegra!” The boy with the ball yelled back, rolling his shoulders. “It’s not like you’ll hit it anyway!”

“Why you…  come here you little-!”  The girl, Allegra, raised the bat and started marching towards him. Tarrin gave a high-pitched yelp, dropped the ball and booked it.

“That’s enough!” Virgil’s voice called out, and Roman jumped. How hadn’t Roman noticed him?

The man himself was sitting in a lawn chair, looking surprisingly intimidating for someone with small children hanging off his arms and braiding his hair into a wreath-like crown around the top of his head. Most of his hair was free to fall past his shoulders in a cascade of purple-ombre curls, tangled with flowers and other sparkly objects. He looked more at ease than Roman had ever seen him, and there was something almost-beautiful about his expression. The children hanging around him ignored his reprimand and stayed focused on their chosen tasks. The one plaiting his hair finished the braid, tying it off and starting a different one, and another had a tongue poking out in concentration as she applied glittery magenta polish to his fingernails. Despite all this, the girl with the bat lowered it, admittedly begrudgingly, but she _did_ lower it. The boy she’d been chasing slowed to a halt, practically dropping to the ground, face red with exertion.

“You need to apologise,” Virgil said, voice stern.

Allegra scowled, but did so. The game started back up, and Virgil relaxed back into his chair. Then he spotted Roman, his eyes widened and he gently shooed away the children hanging off his arms.

“Roman, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Roman chuckled, scratching the back of his neck gracelessly. “Remy invited us.”

“Us?” Virgil asked, tilting his head questioningly in a way that shouldn’t have been as cute as it was.

_No Roman, bad thoughts!_ Roman reprimanded himself internally. _He has a soulmate, and you would know if it was you._

“My soulmates, Logan and Patton are here too, Remy said it was alright to bring them.”

Virgil hummed affirmatively and a comfortable silence fell upon the two of them. They sat together for seemed like an eternity until a couple of the people from indoors came to call them all in for dinner.

After that the night seemed to blend together. The children and their parents had all left by eight-o-clock, leaving the remaining adults the opportunity to let loose a little more. Someone broke out a karaoke machine, and Roman performed a show-stopping rendition of _A Whole New World_ alongside Patton, and even got Logan to sing. He may have been a little off-key, but by that point everyone had embarrassed themself somehow, so no-one really cared. Even Virgil got up to sing at one point, singing the song _Breathin’_ , his performance sending about half the audience into tears.

His last memory of the night was agreeing to stay in a guest room with Patton and Logan. Virgil had said something about him being too tired to drive safely? Something along those lines. That night Roman dreamt of a low voice crooning along to soft instrumentals, a thunderstorm crackling softly in the background.

Roman awoke in an unfamiliar room, Patton cuddled into his side and Logan nowhere to be seen. He remained in his soulmate’s koala-like grip, unwilling to wake him, and took stock of his surroundings. A subdued turquoise covered the walls, with pure white accents. On either side of the large bed were small bedside tables with a butterfly decal on the front of each. On top of each table was a small, unlit lamp, in an almost beige kind of colour. The bed itself was incredibly comfortable, with a grey-striped white duvet, pillows and sheets in a pretty shade of dark blue.

Next to him, Patton stirred, blinking awake. “Where are we?” he yawned, rubbing his eyes drowsily.

“I think we’re at Virgil’s place, love,” Roman replied, unwilling to leave the warmth of his soulmate’s arms, but wanting to explore at the same time. “Let’s go find Logan.”

They didn’t have any clothes to change into, so made their way downstairs (he hadn’t known that the house had more than two stories, so that had been a surprise). Roman was well aware that he looked like a mess, but Patton looked so cute with his tightly-curled hair ruffled from sleep, so he was willing to make sacrifices.

Logan they found in the kitchen, conversing with Devyn as the two cooked something. Around Devyn’s neck a silver pendant glinted, inscripted with the words _He/Him_.

“Good morning,” Logan said when he saw them shuffle in, dishevelled and still half-asleep. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a rock,” Patton grinned, “But I’ll never take a good night’s sleep for _granite_.”

“It is too early for this,” Logan groaned, looking for all the world like he was considering smacking his head on the bench.

“Of all the _pebble_ here to lose their _coal_ , I never thought it would be you Lo-lo!”

Patton would not be stopped, so Roman did the next best thing. He chipped in. “Don’t be so _jaded_ , my love.”

Logan took a deep, tired breath. “You see what I have to put up with?” He asked, turning to Devyn.

Roman cackled, planting a kiss on his grouchy soulmate’s cheek. One thing that he could say about Logan was that he was not a pun person in the mornings. Later in the day, after Logan had had his coffee he was somewhat more tolerant, but right now, when neither of those specifications were filled he had _no_ patience for their shenanigans whatsoever.

“Roman, would you go wake up Virgil?” Devyn’s words themselves were a question, but his tone gave no illusions that it was a request. “You’ll know which room’s his.”

Roman wasn’t in the mood for being argumentative that early in the morning, so he left the room without fuss, stomping up the stair with heavy feet. Hey, just because he wasn’t being directly confrontational didn’t mean he couldn’t be problematic.

Devyn had been correct, Roman did know which room was Virgil’s. The door was polished, wood gleaming darkly with what looked like gold-plating on the doorknob, open about a foot’s-width. An equally gold plate sat at eye-level, inscribed with Virgil’s name. Apparently his last name was Ward. Who’d’ve guessed? Roman knocked on the door, and after receiving no response gave it a gentle push. The door swung open silently on well oiled hinges, and he took a few steps inside.

The room inside was _nice_ , to say the least. The walls were papered with a rich, deep purple, the dark colour patterned with surprisingly realistic lightning bolts in a white-blue colour, accented with light-grey skirting. Virgil had really gone full ham with the storm theme, huh? The ceiling was painted to look like a stormy night sky, cloud-shaped light hanging from the centre of the ceiling. The only things in the room not to subscribe to the storm theme were the spider-patterned curtains, which Roman honestly couldn’t tell whether Virgil had bought to be intentionally tacky, or that he actually liked them, and the desk, which sat in one corner of the room with a spinny yellow chair, a glittery golden skull sitting next to a small pile of books and a pair of clunky headphones at the edge of the surface.

Virgil himself laid upon the large bed in the middle of one wall, purple sheets and plaid duvet cover tangled around his legs, exposing his chest. His hair was splayed across the pillows in a halo of purple curls. Two dogs curled up together at the foot of the bed, one Roman recognised as Lola, the little dog from the night before, the other a fluffy white beast. Patton’s obsession with most animals had given Roman quite the repertoire of knowledge when it came to animal breeds. He’d say that this one was a Samoyed. Neither canine stirred when Roman entered the room, something Roman was internally grateful for. A fluffy ragdoll cat slept against his chest, another cat, this one a British Blue, curled up in the bend of his knees.

The animals weren’t what caught Roman’s attention, however there were two things that did. The first was the burn scars marring Virgil’s bare skin, spanning the side of his chest, stretching up the side of his neck and down the length of his bicep. (Virgil was unfairly buff, Roman decided upon seeing the other man’s muscles. No romo though). The second, and somewhat more important in Roman’s opinion, was the ink marking the other man’s skin.

Roman blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. On Virgil’s bicep was the slightly distorted llama Patton had doodled on Roman when he’d been napping the day before. On the crook of Virgil’s wrist was the bouquet Roman had drawn on his own while Logan had been driving them to Virgil’s house. On his inner forearm were the notes Logan had scribbled down whilst marking papers. Of course the writing was illegible, but the point still stood. Outlined on the skin above his heart was a thundercloud, the lightning bolt striking down the only section filled in with colour, a deep purple that was a significantly cooler shade that the colour papering his walls. The cloud itself was monochrome, a dull grey that hardly stood out from the black outline.

Virgil had turned in his sleep while Roman had been watching him, rolling onto his stomach. The cat curled up against his chest woke up, jumping off of the bed with a loud meow. The sleeping man stirred, blinking blearily then flopping back down onto the pillow.

“Virgil?” Roman ventured, taking a step forward. “Devyn sent me to wake you up.”

Virgil groaned, twisting around to look at the person who’d disturbed his slumber. When his eyes landed on Roman, he blinked owlishly, then flailed wildly, falling from the bed onto the ground with a thump of tangled limbs.

“Roman!?! What are you doing here?!?”

“You let us stay the night?”

Virgil took a breath, untangling himself from the pile of covers he was snared in and getting up slowly. He didn’t seem to be aware that his chest was still bare, legs clad in loose black pajama pants patterned with silver skulls.

Roman swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath and mentally preparing himself. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was uncharacteristically small.

“Tell you what?” Virgil asked, still sleep-tainted and confused.

Roman silently nodded at the other man’s chest. “That I’m your soulmate? That you’re the missing piece I’ve been looking for all my life?”

Virgil shifted nervously, face pale. Now that he wasn’t wearing any makeup, Roman could see the freckled spattering his face. It was unfairly cute.

“You just seemed so… _happy_ without me. I didn’t want to ruin that for you. Plus there’s always a chance that soulmates aren’t compatible. My parents certainly weren’t, but they stayed with each other because they believed in Fate, that a higher power assigned them to each other.” He snorted bitterly, lips twisting. “Maybe that crash was a good thing. Yes, I’ve met soulmates who are happy with each other, but the kind of worldview that I was trained into, however unwillingly, isn’t the kind of thing that goes away overnight.”

“Just give us a chance,” Roman pleaded, pouring the emotions welling up in his chest into his voice. “If we don’t work I won’t make you stay, but _please_ , give us a chance. Give _me_ a chance.”

“Okay. Okay. Say I give you this chance, what happens next?”

“That’s up to all of us, Virgil, you included.”

Virgil nodded slowly, eyes glistening. Roman opened his arms wide.

“Hug?”

Virgil wiped away the tears welling in his eyes, his signature smirk twitching at his lips.

“Let me put a shirt on first?”

Roman backed up quickly, nodding so fast he thought his head might go flying off. “Yeah, yep, definitely. I will, uh, turn around.”

He turned to face the wall. Their conversation had woken the animals, and the Samoyed came over to brush against Roman’s legs. He entwined his fingers in its fur and gave it scritches on the neck. It made a happy noise, and from behind him Virgil chuckled.

“That’s Mac.”

Roman figured that he’d been turned around for long enough, and pivoted back around. Virgil had put on a plain green shirt and was looking at either Roman or the dog with a fond expression. Roman thought it was the dog.

“Mac?”

“Short for Macbeth. We didn’t name him.”

“Fair enough.”

Roman pressed a gentle kiss to the dog’s soft head, then straightened up. Even standing at his full height Virgil was almost a full head taller than him. He _wasn’t_ bitter. He _wasn’t_.

“Hug now?”

Roman opened his arms wide again, and Virgil stepped into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around the taller man, who’s breath tousled his hair.

“So how does is this going to work?” Virgil asked, pressing his face into Roman’s shoulder.

“That, my dear, is something we’ll find out on the way.” He paused, lips twitching. “There will be many puns, Disney sing-along marathons, and cookies. And I mean a lot of cookies.”

Virgil squeaked out a noise that someone wouldn’t have expected from a person of his stature, shaking with what Roman hoped was laughter, and he grinned into the taller man’s hair. This would work.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and yell at me on tumblr: I go by merlybird500 there.


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